The Sprig
The rubber tires clipped it,
so we tenderly spaded
And edged out the roots.
The three glossy leaves
were crisp with promise
And we saw a wholesome trunk.
But foresight ended there.
Betrayed in a sea of grass,
The sprig stood bravely.
However, the season's shaving,
grooming, and engraving
Denuded its barkless shaft.
May 23, 2006